


Have to be Here

by Constance



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Consent Issues, F/M, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Make Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constance/pseuds/Constance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons made them do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have to be Here

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fanfiction. Cliched and OOC.

Buffy walked into the Magic Box, raised an eyebrow to see just Willow sitting at the large centre table.

"I'm helping out with the new late opening hours," Willow answered her friend's unspoken question. "As you can see I don't think Anya will be recouping my wages, but so far no-one's come to kill me, so way-hay."

Buffy dumped her bag on an empty seat and headed for the bookcase.

"Does that mean Giles isn't here? Cause I got bit by something and it's starting to swell."

"Ooh, research," said Willow, rubbing her hands together in mock glee. "Was it furry or scaly?"

"Kinda armoured," answered Buffy absently, pulling out a book of demon mug shots at random. "Dark green plates. Imagine a ninja turtle with a whole lot more teeth. Looked like it could have been a human once."

"Could be a sort of Manx," suggested Willow, "A kind of demon created by a curse. Giles has a book on them up there somewhere. Did it dissolve when it died?"

"Dunno. It jumped me outside Westhall Memorial then legged it while I was checking I still had two arms. Ah, 'A Compendium of Manx Demons and Living Curses'. How thrilling."

Willow had pulled open her laptop and was clicking furiously. "They're not in the Watchers' database. Ah, here we are. 'Derived from the name of the Egyptian mage thought to have been the first to create a Manx demon around 400 BC. When he discovered his wife had been conducting an affair with his brother he ordered him to be encased in a hideously spiked armour made from pure emerald, which became a living skin and filled the man inside with a fearful rage.' " She paused and scanned the rest of the web page. "It reproduces by biting, infecting the victim like poison and eating them inside out. It can take weeks, then when the person's dead, they grow their own armour and become a new demon."

Buffy, still flicking through the compendium, frowned. "Not liking the sound of that, Will."

"There's always an antidote, that's kind of the point of the curse. This Egyptian guy cursed his brother's teeth to get his own back on his wife too. When the demon bit the woman the only way she could stop from becoming like him was to sleep with him. The demon not the magician. Oh. She refused and he cut her head off. But it does say if she'd had sex with him she would have been cured."

"Willow!" Buffy squeaked. "You're not making it sound any better. I'm not having sex with that..." she broke off and shuddered.

"But that was just the original demon, and we know it's not one of those cause it was slain by the mage. But other people used his spells to create different kinds, you'd have to be really powerful to do it, but you only need one to start a race and over a couple of millennia there've been quite a few. We just need to find which one bit you and what its antidote is."

"You're starting to babble, Will. What are the chances of the antidote being something doable?"

Willow frowned, wrinkling up her nose. "That depends on who did the original curse and why. There's one here that cursed the victim to ride naked through the streets of Lincoln. Did yours have four horns? You might be in for a free holiday."

"Nah, no such luck. Hey, this one looks like it," said Buffy, nearly at the end of her compendium. "'Known as a Grekkon in vampire lore, the first was created by a master vampire in Russia in the late 5th century.' Oh!" She fell silent, engrossed in her reading.

"You okay, Buffy?" asked Willow, coming to read over her shoulder. "Hey, looks like Spike's not the only dead person with problems getting laid... Oh."

Buffy shut the book with a snap. "It's not in here," she said firmly. "Maybe it was just a regular kind of demon with bad teeth."

"Oo-kay," agreed Willow slowly. "D'you think we should call Giles, just to be sure?"

Buffy was silent, apparently lost in thought. Then she shook herself out of her reverie and shook her head. "Maybe later," she said breezily. "I'm gonna patrol, see if I can't find it and kill it. I can catch Giles later if it still looks infected." She picked up her bag and a stake off the counter and headed for the door.

"Don't you think... I should come with you," Willow finished to an empty shop.

********

Buffy did indeed patrol, needing time to think and something to kill but it was a quiet night and her feet took her to Spike's crypt much sooner than she'd intended. Maybe it was a big demon conspiracy, they'd all got together to stay out of her way just when she needed something big and scaly to lay into. Then the inevitable phonecall to LA, and a most unsatisfactory answer, and Buffy'd had enough thinking.

She opened the crypt door less violently than was her habit, allowing it to swing back without its usual thud. The Slayer could sense a vampire inside, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out Spike on the bed in the far corner. He pulled a sheet around himself, ran a hand through sleep tousled hair and eyed her warily.

"You wanna be shutting that door, Slayer, or do you feel safer with an exit route?"

With her foot Buffy kicked the door gently, it swung half closed and she stepped further into the crypt. There seemed to be a different atmosphere tonight, leftover sensory memories from the last time she'd been inside, or maybe just nervous anticipation. The Buffy shrine had thankfully disappeared but knowing he'd had a Buffy shrine wasn't helping any, the Slayer had an uneasy feeling there were whole new levels of creepiness to be reached and she was about to start a big ugly ball rolling.

"I need your help," she said blandly.

"Well I bet that gets stuck in your throat, bitch. What's in it for me?"

"Sex," said Buffy, her expression never changing.

Spike snorted. "With whom?"

Buffy stared blankly for a second. "Right. Mistake. Okay." She turned on her heel and headed outside but Spike was quicker, slamming the door and standing in front of it, his bed sheet held loosely round his waist. The banks of candles flickered in the draught. Stupid vampire must order them by the truckload, as if he knew how the dancing shadows hightlighted the toned white planes of his body.

"No you don't, Slayer. You've got my attention and you know how I love to help."

Buffy scowled at his feet, carefully keeping her eyes away from any naked Spike parts. "Get out of my way."

"Hey!" he said indignantly, "You let yourself in, didn't you? And I'm warning you, if I have to defend myself this sheet's not going to stay up long." He cocked his head on one side and looked at her for a second. "Are you shaking?"

"I've got to go." Buffy tried to push past him, head resolutely down, but he caught her arm.

"Don't be daft, Slayer, if something's got you this rattled then I think it's something I need to know about."

Buffy shook his arm off, sure she was blushing and angry with herself. "This isn't end of the world stuff," she mumbled.

"Buffy, you're shaking," he emphasized slowly. "Just pretend we're friends for a minute and sit down and tell me what's wrong."

She was shaking. Trembling. Shivering. Was it cold in here? Cause Slayers weren't supposed to tremble, there was no way she could be scared.

She'd been worried, the other week, when he'd chained her up. Had a bit of time to question his chip's definition of pain and Spike's definition of love and wonder if he intended to rape her. But she hadn't been scared, cause she was the Slayer and looked death and worse in the face on a regular basis and had conquered all but her personal demons. The solid, hittable kind she could face down with a quip and an insult, even psychotic impotent vampires who chained her up to prove their affection. And he wanted her, that was a good place to start in this peculiar set of circumstances, right?

Buffy's main enemy now was herself and she knew it. Every Slayer sense was rebelling against this situation, and even her baser instincts were all telling her to run or fight, and Buffy was used to trusting her instincts. She didn't know if she could fight them, didn't know how to say it. He'd do it, right? If she just said 'Spike, take me now', it would be over in minutes and she wouldn't have to explain. But even the short version was more than she could articulate.  


********

Spike waited anxiously as Buffy stared at her feet.

That was his Slayer, he thought with affectionate irritation, never one for the casual chit-chat. Or for giving a fellow a bloody clue what was going on in her head. She hadn't, apparently, come to stake him, although the thought had crossed his mind once or twice since the fiasco of Dru's visit, maybe with hindsight he could have handled that a little better. After about a minute Spike's extremely finite patience ran out and he took his hand off the door. "Fine. You think about it some more. I'll be over here brushing up on my mind reading. And putting on some clothes, cause God forbid the apocalypse should start while I'm not wearing any trousers."

Buffy shrugged and wandered into the crypt after him, eyes on the floor the whole time. Spike picked up some jeans and turned away to pull them on. "Is Dawn okay?" he asked as he zipped up his fly.

Behind him he heard Buffy flop onto the end of the bed with a sigh. "She's fine," she answered shortly.

"And no world endage on the horizon?"

Buffy examined her fingernails carefully. "No."

Spike threw up his hands, exasperated, and headed towards the cabinet. "I'm groping in the dark here love. You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"And you care because?" asked Buffy acidly.

Spike rolled his eyes and handed her an empty shot glass. "You're a real piece of work, you are. You want me out of your life, then you want my help but if I ask what it is you want me to do then you bitch at me." He filled her glass from a Oban bottle and took a swig himself. "Have a drop of whisky, Slayer, it's good for loosening tongues I'm told."

She held the glass up suspiciously. "Yes, alcohol, that'll help."

"Might shift that rod up your backside," he muttered. Buffy made to get up but Spike caught her sleeve.

"Stop it, Slayer. You know I'll help. But the suspense is killing me and you're really not looking so good, so drink up your whisky and tell me about it."

Buffy downed the shot with a grimace and watched disinterestedly as he refilled the glass. "I got bit by a Grekkon," she said eventually.

There was a long silence as Buffy stared straight ahead, elbows on her knees.

"Oh," said Spike with significance, sitting down beside her. "I see."

"You've heard of them, then?" asked Buffy neutrally.

"Kinda legendary in the vampire world, Love. Never met one, though."

"Sunnydale's just brimming with rare attractions."

Spike looked at her sideways, eyes narrowed, but she continued to stare at the wall. Tentatively he reached out a hand to pat her shoulder. "Your luck really blows, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, well," spat Buffy bitterly. "It's an ill wind, and all that."

Spike bristled and pulled his hand away. "That's not fair, Buffy. I'm in love-"

"Don't!" Buffy jumped to her feet and took a couple of swift steps away. "Don't do that."

He sighed and stood up. "Okay, okay, I wasn't gonna. I just meant I wouldn't wish this on you, no matter how much I'd like to get in your knickers."

"My what now?" she asked with an unconscious Spike-ism.

"Frilly little panties," he clarified. Spike put out his hand to touch her again, when she didn't bolt he slid his arm round her waist but she wouldn't turn to face him.

"I do care, and I'm sorry. Now have another drink."

She shook her head mutely, Spike pulled her back against his bare chest and put his hand over hers round the glass.  
"Trust me love, the more you drink the better looking I get."

He didn't get the hoped for laugh but Buffy allowed him to raise her glass to her lips and she downed it, shuddering, then hugged herself, staring at the floor. "More?"

She didn't answer so Spike put down the glass and started to rub the back of her neck. "Talk to me, Buffy," he coaxed, edging his fingers under her hair and massaging her scalp. Buffy just stood, arms wound tightly round her body. Spike leaned in until his lips were touching her neck. "Buffy?"

She started trembling again and he held her tighter, feeling just a little helpless. "Don't know what to say, Love. Wish I could help but I'm guessing that's what's got you upset."

And she was really sobbing now, shaking silently, every muscle tensed against him. "Hey now," he murmured softly, "It'll be okay, let it out now. You'll be okay."

Gently he unwrapped her arms from her body and pulled her round to face him. She moved unresisting as he cuddled her to him but resolutely refused to meet his eye, instead sniffling against his bare chest.

It had been years since Spike had tried to comfort anyone but his insane princess, 'les you counted that peculiar night on Buffy's porch steps and he'd decided then that Slayers crying was against all natural order of things. So he just held her, whispering soothing nonsense as the tears subsided and she stiffened with the return of self awareness.

"You gonna let me help, Love? I don't know what to do."

"You want me to draw you a diagram?" snapped Buffy, voice muffled.

"This isn't my fault, you know," chided Spike gently. Buffy tried to push him away but he tightened his arms. "Tell you what," he teased, "You tell me who you do fancy and I'll turn 'em for you."

She laughed, a little hysterically. "John Cusack."

"What's that, Love?" Spike pulled back a little to look at her and Buffy met his eye for the first time. "I said I fancy John Cusack," she said in a tiny voice. "Can you vamp him?"

Spike didn't answer for a second. Those big tearful eyes looking up at him seemed to have reminded his dick just how close she was standing. He shifted a little so she wouldn't notice, then had to try and remember what the question was. "Uh, sure thing, pet. But would you really want to live without any more thoughtful chick flicks?"

His hands rested on the small of her back and Spike had to fight back the urge to pull her against him, grind his aching cock against her body. She sniffed and he quelled his lust, looked at her seriously. "Are you okay?"

She looked down again, made uneasy by the pity in his expression. "I'm fine," she said shortly. Then after a pause; "Thanks."  
She stepped back, this time succeeding in freeing herself. "I just really don't want to be here." She looked up again and shrugged diffidently. "I'm sorry-"

"Understandable," he cut in, filling her whisky glass again. "You're obviously immune to my evilly seductive charm."

Buffy took the glass and gave him a reluctant smile. "I should probably warn you I'm a violent drunk."

"Well I think we both know I'm a masochist, so that works out nicely, then."

"Eeew."

Not sure if she was referring to the whisky or his masochistic tendencies Spike held his peace. The former was obviously starting to have some affect 'cause she pouted at him, spoke a little petulantly. "It's just not fair."

"You know the platitudes, Love. Life isn't fair." He reached out to brush away a lock of her hair and she looked away nervously. "Although gotta say, yours is more unfair than most."

"Yeah. Life sucks. Can we get this over with?"

"Don't think it works quite that way."

"Oh," said Buffy through gritted teeth, suddenly giving him her undivided attention and tilting her chin dangerously. "Why don't you tell me how it works, then?"

"Hey there," he wheedled. "Don't be getting all defensive on me."

"So tell me how it works. What do you want?"

"Stop that! I don't want anything, I'm just trying to explain..."

Even Spike was staring to feel embarrassed now, hung his head to avoid her accusing glare. Buffy was like a coiled spring, earlier tears still streaking her face but she'd walled in her emotions. Spike suspected whatever he said next would earn him a broken nose.

"I can't just fix you."

"You mean you won't," said Buffy flatly. But the expected blow didn't come, she was backing away.

"I don't know what I was thinking. Of course you'd rather watch me die slowly than fuck me."

Spike opened and closed his mouth like a fish, thought about punching her, laughed instead.

"Did you even hear a single word I said?"

"I'm sure this is all real amusing for you."

Buffy was nearly at the door again, in frustration Spike tackled her, and in the resultant struggle it was the Slayer that ended up pinned against the wall. She tried to twist away but Spike pressed closer until his erection was grinding into her hip.

"Can you feel it, Buffy?" he hissed into her ear. "Feel how much I want you? There's nothing I'd rather be doing than fucking you, you little ninny. Could nail you to the mattress for hours, but it wouldn't help."

The Slayer turned her head away in haughty disdain, gave the wall of the crypt an angry glare. Spike could smell the fear coming off her in waves, though he didn't know why she was afraid it was inflaming his lust and he forced himself to take a step back before he lost control. "Wouldn't help you, that is," he added in a lighter tone. "Do me the world of good. Just don't think you did your reading, is all. It's not the sex that'll fix you."

She still looked ready to bolt and for once Spike stopped and thought about his next sentence carefully. Was obvious she hadn't done all the research, or she wouldn't be here with him.

"You need that elusive moment of female sexual gratification."

Spike never even saw the blow that sent him crashing into the sarcophagus, was still shaking the stars out of his eyes as the Slayer stalked after him.

"What the hell was that for?"

"You've done your reading alright, you summoned this thing."

Her voice was like ice and Spike took a couple of steps back, just in case. "You're just determined to blame me for something, aren't you Slayer?" Spike rubbed his jaw gingerly. "I'd hate to see the state of the Grekkon."

Buffy glowered. "The Grekkon is still running round Sunnydale. And if I find out you had anything to do with that-"

"I didn't."

Buffy continued to glower, clearly not convinced by a simple denial.

Fuck it, thought Spike. She was going to bugger off, just in case this was one of his evil plots. Stubborn little chit would rather be dead than manipulated. And he wanted to get angry in his own defence, because it was virtually rape she was accusing him of, but even Spike knew he had little claim to righteous indignation

"When'd you get bit?" he asked suddenly.

"This evening," Buffy answered before remembering she was mad. "Don't tell me, you have an alibi?"

"Just wondering. You've got a day or so. Look, Slayer, I want you, never made any secret of it but not like this and I wouldn't sic one of those things on you. Don't even know if they're sic-able."

She raised one sceptical eyebrow that made Spike wonder if it was even worth continuing. But he couldn't left the daft cow die just cause she didn't like him.

"And you're right, I've read up on these things and I know there'd be no point summoning one. You don't need to be here, love."

Buffy just continued to stare stupidly and Spike squirmed, didn't want to have to spell it out. But he would.

"Angel," he snapped impatiently. "Moment of happiness doesn't have to be shared, as it were. Get the Grand Poof to lick you out, no dying, no Angelus, problem solved."

That had to be a new low for soulless vampires everywhere, and still Buffy didn't look any happier. He'd passed up probably his only chance at a bit of Slayer nookie, sent her off to her abomination of an ex and she was still frowning at him.

"I knew that," she said eventually. "I called L.A., Angel's... not there."

If he was honest a large part of Spike cheered at that statement. He knew he shouldn't be glad she was stuck with him when the mere thought was so obviously distressing her, but that couldn't stop him feeling it. Anything was better than imagining her writhing under that moronic, Byronic pillock. Well almost anything.

He didn't want to hurt her, if she would give him the chance Spike was certain he could please her. His confidence may have taken a bit of a knock in the last twenty minutes and he might be starting with a huge handicap but a century's worth of practise had to count for something. Wasn't like either of them had a choice, not really, he'd just have to make sure Buffy took the 'not dying' option.

Spike wasn't completely stupid, whatever dismal picture of his intelligence his impulsive actions sometimes painted. Chains hadn't been the way to go, he'd mucked up his chance with her if he'd ever had one and maybe a vampire even less stupid might have realised that in advance. Not like he'd planned it, just one bad spur-of-the-moment decision after another, but Spike realised it all must have made it that much harder for Buffy to come to him now. But she'd not staked him. She'd said she was disgusted by him, locked him out of her house, but not staked him and she'd asked for his help now so he'd just have to calm her down and make her forget her disgust.

There was no way Spike was allowing himself to consider the possibility that he couldn't please her. That she could be so revolted by him he couldn't save her even if she let him try.

He'd just have to be good enough.  


********

Somehow Buffy's night was going from bad to worse.

A combination of whisky and the unfairness of life had left her spoiling for a fight, but there was nothing to hit. The bite on her arm was throbbing, the skin around it puffy and purpling, showing the spreading poison and reminding her that life just sucked. Spike was making things unaccountably worse by trying to be nice when she wanted to be mad at him. Would it be completely out of line to hit him again for no reason at all?

She suspected he wouldn't mind, which took most of the fun out of the idea.

Talking had been her first big mistake, should have just jumped him, he'd've cottoned on. Stopped his mouth with a big wet kiss. Used him for her own pleasure as modern women were supposed to, then staked him as a Slayer was supposed to.  
But no, sober Buffy thought that was icky. Had to dip a toe in, almost looking for an excuse to run away, though she didn't want to die. Then with the crying, already an embarrassing memory. Slayers did not burst into tears when faced with something they didn't like, especially not in the arms of the something. Somewhere along the line she'd asked for sympathy and now he was regarding her with a quiet compassion that made her want to punch him again.

Should he even be able to do that? Wasn't empathy one of these soul-based things?

She'd been wound up and a little freaked out. He'd offered a sympathetic ear, and that thrice cursed alcohol and she'd forgotten what he was for a minute, long enough to cry on his shoulder and give him sniping ammunition for weeks. Now he was standing there half naked and a little worried, making her want to forget again. She really should have said no to the whisky. She wasn't in complete control of her tongue and was terrified if he touched her again she would let more of herself show, and there'd be more humiliating recollections for him to dissect in public the next time she pissed him off.

And much as she hated to think of Spike as a person, there was no part of Buffy that could go to him for help then dust him when he complied.

And was that feeling lust? Just a tiny smidgen?

Being half drunk obviously wasn't enough, she'd have to risk it and finish the job.

"I'msorryIhityoucanIhavesomemorewhiskyplease?" she blurted out in a rush. Wordlessly he handed her a fresh bottle, and watched in silence as she took a swig. Buffy could see he wasn't sure what to do next either, half wanted to giggle at this bizarre parody of the timeless 'come up for coffee' dance, settled for a wry smile. "That was just foreplay to you, right?"

"Depends on what comes next."

Hesitantly Spike slipped his arm round her waist and Buffy had to let him, cause she still wasn't drunk enough to forget propriety and jump him. But every muscle was tensed, rebelling against his touch.

"I'm not your enemy, not any more. I know you'd rather be anywhere else, but it's got to be better than dying, right? Shut your eyes, pretend I'm John Cusack, whatever. If you can't relax with me, nothing I can do will help." Spike's other hand interlaced with hers as he pulled her closer and whispered "Relax, you might like it."

"If I like it, that's worse."

"Not sure I follow."

Buffy could feel the vampire nuzzling at her hair as he waited patiently for her to explain, and she really didn't want to, but the words 'shut up and fuck me' were also getting stuck in her throat. At least she didn't have to look at him, the feel of his cold hands wrapped around her waist was distraction enough.

"If I like it, how am I supposed to tell you no tomorrow? But if I don't have to tell you no..."

"You're tired of blokes telling you once was enough?" Spike finished softly. Buffy stayed silent but the slight stiffening of her shoulders was answer enough. That was one insecurity that even drunk she wasn't willing to share with him, ever.

"Know why I said that, Slayer? Just to get a rise. Could see you were beating yourself up over that waste of space and I thought you'd be that much easier to kill if I rubbed a little salt in the wound. Flawed plan, as it turned out.

"Angelus was obsessed by you. Thought more about what you made him feel than a century of feeding on rats and making nice with his natural prey. And that fraternity turd was just collecting notches on his bedpost. You could have been Sam Fox and Marilyn Monroe rolled into one and he'd still have been moving on to the next victim. Me, well I think you're a hell of a girl and I can't see that changing."

"I don't care what you think," Buffy answered automatically.

"No?"

One hand firmly on her belly to stop her fleeing, Spike pulled back her hair to kiss her neck. If possible Buffy stiffened still further.

"You bite me and I'll have dusted you before you've even had time to swallow."

She felt Spike sigh into her hair, heard a noise that could have been teeth grinding. "Would you get it through your thick skull? Wanna taste you alright, but not like that. You don't care what I think? Tough titty, I'm going to tell you anyway. I love you, Buffy, and God knows I fancy you. You think far too much. Do it and forget it, we'll never mention it again, I swear.

"I'm not gonna tell all your friends if you make funny noises when you come. Not gonna laugh if you've got inverted nipples or ginger pubes or a birthmark shaped like a penis. And I'm certainly not going to bite you. You don't like me, I get it, can hit me if you wanna but if it makes this easier to kiss me I'll not take it the wrong way, whatever keeps you alive, yeah? I'd do anything you want me to and I'll stop the second you tell me. Not gonna try and take any more than you're willing to give, not gonna do anything you don't want to let me, not gonna try and blackmail you for seconds. And I'm not going to take the piss out of you tomorrow, so whatever's worrying you, let it go. None of this is real. You can go back to kicking me around and I'll not throw this back in your face, I promise. Can always stake me, if I-"

"Stop it!"

Buffy hadn't meant to speak, but it was easier with her back to him, and once she started the words kept pouring out with plaintive confusion. "You're not supposed to be this way! I wouldn't care about any of that stuff if you'd just be an asshole like normal, you're making it all worse. If you're so hot for me, why'd you tell me about Angel? And how can I stake you after... you told me to? You're supposed to be evil. Why are you being so nice to me?"

She could feel Spike shaking against her back, knew he was stifling a laugh and that made her feel yet worse.

"I know this is going to come as quite a surprise, Summers, what with you being so obnoxious and all, but I quite like you. I want to be nice to you. Wouldn't see you come to any harm, if there was any way I could help. I'm still evil, don't you worry about that, just let me be nice to you, just this once."

"No! It's creepy and unsettling."

Another laugh, that he didn't bother to hide. He was wrapped around her like a blanket now and she could feel the rumbling amusement deep in his chest. "No being nice, check. So tell me what you do want, love. How can I turn you on? Tell me how you like to be touched."

"I can't," said Buffy.

"Sure you can," he murmured, hands sliding over her skin in a way that made her shiver. She flinched slightly as he cupped one breast through her lacy bra but made no move to stop him, couldn't have said for sure if she was still able to move. It wasn't in her nature to be passive, but in all ways it was easier to let him take control and there was something indefinably erotic about keeping so still as he moved against her. "Can tell me anything," he continued softly, "You can trust me. Can't rightly promise I'll forget but I'll not quote back to you when you're sober."

And there was a stupid trap to fall into, trusting the evil vampire. And the strange thing was she did, kind of, right then at least. It was an unnerving sensation, and it didn't help. Neither did his hands, one gently massaging her breast as the other started to unbutton her blouse. Slowly building a need akin to thirst.

"I can't... it's not... I mean..." She stumbled over the words, in perfect illustration of what she was trying to say. "I'm not good with the talking, Spike."

"You don't say?"

Buffy giggled, a noise so rare nowadays it startled Spike, she felt him pull back a little in surprise and it made her laugh harder.  
"I must be drunk," she said firmly, more to herself than Spike. "Take me now, before it wears off."

She could feel him straining against her, knew how eager he was to comply and that thought was erotic, too. Even buttoned down he felt bigger than Riley, and maybe she was... curious. Just a little. Buffy wiggled against him in daring experiment and Spike reciprocated with a sharp twist of her nipple as he gasped against the top of her spine.

She may have only just been on the drunken side of tipsy but Buffy was starting to feel light-headed out of all proportion. Spike pulled open her blouse and started working the knot of her wrap around skirt, kissing his way down her scapula as her flimsy top slid down her arms.

She had to be here, right? Couldn't help it that his slow caresses were rushing straight to her tingly places. So Buffy went with the feeling, shut her eyes and let Spike take over as her skirt pooled on the floor.

"You don't know how much I want to," Spike breathed. "Ache to touch you, be inside you." Blouse joined skirt, Buffy barely noticed.

"Can I tell you all the things I want to do to you? Wanna lick you all over and in all the right places till you're a quivering mass of jelly, wet and defenceless, all ready for me to have my wicked way with you."

His fingers toyed with the waistband of her thong with deceptive gentleness, one sharp twist and it was a useless piece of elastic pinging across the crypt.

"Want to make your skin tremble and your nipples hard. Such beautiful skin, pet, smells so good." One hand inside her bra now, holding Buffy up as she melted against him, other hand stroking the inside of her thigh. She heard a moan, couldn't say for sure if she'd made it.

"Can smell you, you know. Your arousal. You'd like to know, wouldn't you, how I'd feel inside you?"

Buffy gasped as he teased her soft curls and unconsciously arched back against him. Spike encouraged the movement, ground his erection against her bum and echoed her moans.

"It's okay, Love. It'll be good. I'll stretch you and fill you up and you'll still want more cause it'll feel so good. Wanna make you come, gorgeous little thing. Want to bury my mouth in your quim and suck so hard you'll still be coming down tomorrow. Want to pound into you, make you scream, till all you can feel is me inside your hot little pussy and you're screaming my name, my sexy little girl. You feel better than I can describe, make me helpless with need, I'd beg you to squeeze me just a little bit harder."

Buffy made an inartuculate choking noise and thrust against his hand as Spike teased with barely-there touches.

"Like that, do you?" His hand pressed harder against her mound. "Like to hear how fucking hot you are? What your sexy little walk does to me? You don't know how badly I've wanted to bend you over that tomb and make you mine, rip off those flimsy little outfits, fuck you raw and you'd love it, my dirty little Slayer."

His words were sending pinpricks of heat straight down her body, then electricity as his finger slid inside her swollen lips straight to her pleasure spot. A dimly remembered part of the Slayer thought maybe this was going too far. She shouldn't be standing here, virtually naked, letting a vampire play tunes on her skin to accompany his litany of filth.

And then she wasn't standing there, moaned for the loss of contact as Spike picked her up and carried her across the crypt. Before she could react he'd laid her on the bed, resuming his attentions to her clitoris and peeling off her bra as he settled between her legs.

He was still murmuring endearments as he dipped his head to her breast but Buffy was starting to lose the sense of his words, blurred into one continuous sexy growl by the blood pounding in her ears. He looked up at her through his lashes as he circled one prominent pink nipple with his tongue and Buffy shivered.

"Want to see you, love, so fucking beautiful, couldn't ever get enough."

She jerked as cold air tickled the wet trail he'd left with his tongue, then again as he gently nipped at her.

"Oh please... can't.... Spike!"

The sound of his name froze the vampire for a second, he raised his eyes again to search hers. "Think you can," he growled, "Think you want to."

Spike slid his thumb rhythmically over her clitoris. "Want to come for me, don't you love?" he whispered against her stomach. "Can I taste you? Talk to me, Buffy, sweetheart." He moved down till his words were tickling her pubic hair. "What do you want? You can talk to me, I won't ever tell."

"Yes!" she gasped "Taste... your tongue. I want..."

"S'okay love," he murmured, replacing his thumb with his tongue and licking her slowly. "Like that?"

"Oh God!"

"Like that," Spike repeated smugly. "Little more?"

The Slayer thrashed under him as Spike sucked her pink hood slowly into his mouth, mimicking the action with his fingers on her nipple, whimpered as he released her.

"You bastard.... you want me to beg..."

"Want to hear you say it, Buffy, please. Tell me you want this."

"Can't.... stop teasing... Fuck!" Buffy yelped as he sucked harder. "Yes! Want you.... Spike..... Wanna come..."

"Your wish is my command."  


********

For a long moment Buffy just lay there, breathing hard. Spike crawled up her body and lay at her side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. She looked back, eyes wide in almost childish surprise, like the proverbial small animal in the bright light. Say something, his brain whispered frantically, but all his blood was still in parts of his body not known for thinking and he couldn't form a single coherent sentence. He knew he was staring, and the silence was starting to stretch, but Spike couldn't tear his eyes away from her, flushed and glistening from his attentions, the taste of her still on his tongue, and part of him was afraid to break the spell.

In the end it was Buffy who spoke first, a little breathlessly. "You're really quite good at that, aren't you?"

And that was his cue to say something sarcastic and lighten the tension but words still failed him as he fiercely pushed down thoughts of ripping his jeans off and pounding into her. "Thanks," he managed.

As if reading his mind her hands strayed to his belt buckle. Spike flinched as her fingertips brushed lightly over his straining jeans and he snatched her wrists.

"Don't touch me," he snapped.

That did it. Buffy froze, and Spike was cursing himself before the words were even fully out. "That came out wrong, love," he said as she pulled her hands away and sat up. "I'm sorry-"

"No no no." She spread out her fingers emphatically. "That's really okay. I just thought, I mean you said you were gonna..." She ducked her head and turned away, reaching for her blouse. Spike couldn't help a smile, there was no way in the world his Slayer was ever going to finish that sentence.

"No Love, I was just talking." That one hung there for a second. "Bollocks. That didn't come out right either." He took a deep breath as Buffy got up to get her panties. "Don't be rushing off in a huff now Slayer."

"Just a little naked and embarrassed," she mumbled, sitting down on the bed to get dressed.

"It's the naked part that's addled my brain. I'm only male, love, and I've not had much practise with this self restraint stuff."  
Buffy frowned at him as she pulled on her blouse and he lifted a hand to smooth down the collar. "I'm trying really hard to behave myself but you touch me and I'm going to do things to you you'd rather I didn't."

Buffy blushed still redder and reached for her skirt. "So why didn't you?"

Spike followed her up angrily, stepped in front of her and caught the lapels of her blouse. "Why don't I fuck you when I know you don't want me? Hell I don't know. Cause I really wasn't just talking, I want to do things to you I can't even spell, wanna make you scream. Why should I care you're not enjoying yourself?"

Her face hardened as she looked up at him but for a second Spike had seen the uncertainty and worry there and his anger dissipated as quickly as it had arrived. He busied his hands with buttoning her blouse and sighed. "Didn't we cover this? You really think that badly of me?"

Buffy tied up her wrap around skirt then to Spike's surprise she reached up and stroked his arms. "Sorry. Was only asking. You're not the only person who's not thinking straight, you know."

The warmth of her hands was spreading to unexpected places. Buffy still looked like she wanted to bolt but only, he realised suddenly, 'cause she really wasn't good with the talking.

"I have that affect on all women."

Buffy snorted but didn't take her hands away. "Lucky you're such a gentleman then."

"No." He finished with her buttons and took her hands. "But I wouldn't hurt you. Not for all the world."

"Yeah. I didn't..." She looked down at their joined hands, traced a pattern with her finger. "It just seemed kinda mean to come here and then not..." She let the words fade away, Spike chuckled.

"Oh it is, love." She looked up and he grinned. "But you can be mean, I'm evil, I can take it. I'd've settled for a kiss anyhow."  
Again she surprised him, stretching up on tiptoes to comply. A chaiste, gentle kiss that he took and twisted into something some passionate, plundering her mouth until she was lightheaded from want of oxygen.

"Buffy...?" he whispered reverently.

The Slayer couldn't think, that seemed to be the status quo for the day. "Yes?" she whispered eventually.

"Piss off, would you? I'm dying for a wank."

********

Willow watched with interest as Buffy 'helped' reorganise the back counter. The Slayer was moving things with enthusiasm but her mind was clearly not on the task and most of the items she touched ended up in their original locations. She'd been distracted through her patrol update with Giles and had avoided her friends eye ever since her lie of omission, knowing Willow had overheard her not mentioning the bite.

And she positively jumped when the basement door opened and Spike sauntered out. There was an interesting moment as vampire and Slayer's eyes met, it was Buffy who looked away flustered, but it was Xander who spoke from his spot behind the till. "It's Deadboy Junior. Don't you ever get tired of being thrown out of this shop?"

"Lovely to see you too gorgeous," pouted Spike and Willow stifled a laugh as he blew Xander a kiss. "Just came for an update on the latest evil."

"You're here. Breaking news, you're leaving. That do for you?"

Spike took a couple of threatening steps towards Xander, Buffy hastily intervened. "We're just looking for a demon I saw yesterday," she explained, not quite looking at either of them. "Willow's working the mojo as soon as Anya gets back so not really anything to do."

"Yeah, 'bout that demon-"

"Of no interest to you, Spike," interjected Giles, in a politely cold voice. Behind his back Buffy gave Spike the same frantic shushing gesture she'd given Willow earlier, he just grinned in return. Curiouser and curiouser, thought the witch, though it wouldn't take a genius to guess at what secret Buffy might be keeping.

"I'm just trying to help you know," said Spike, addressing Giles with wounded innocence. "I can research."

"Think we've got it covered," sneered Xander.

"Think you misfits need all the help that you can get."

"We all know you only hang round in the hope of getting your filthy hands on Buffy and it's never gonna happen, so you can leave now."

Willow thought she was the only one to see Buffy wince at Xander's words. The Slayer stepped forward again but halted as Spike put his face inches from Xander's to growl his reply. "You're wrong, boy," the vampire ground out, eyes flashing dangerously.

Buffy was virtually cringing, rooted to the spot and unable to look away as he continued.

"It's you I can't wait to get my hands on and believe me one day it's gonna happen." Spike stared at Xander just long enough to see fear then relaxed, wandered over to the research table.

Willow assumed she knew exactly why Buffy's shoulders sagged with relief as she processed Spike's threat and realised it wasn't the revelation she'd been expecting. Meanwhile Giles was snatching away a thick volume of demon lore from the vampire. "We don't want your help," he said firmly.

"Something there you don't want me to see, Rupes?"

It was Spike at his most cocky and irritating and Buffy snapped. "Got something to say, Spike?" she asked icily.

Willow watched the vampire's taunting expression soften as he cocked his head to look at Buffy.

"Not an idiot, Slayer, can eavesdrop with the best of them. And if you're looking for a Grekkon I saw one last night."  
"What exactly do you know about a Grekkon?" asked Giles. Spike rolled his eyes at the accusation in his voice, and it was Buffy rather than Giles he answered.

"There was one in my cemetery early this morning. It's now poisoning the daisies. That set your mind at rest?"

"Thanks," muttered the Slayer, turning away uncomfortably. The vampire gave her a soft smile that Buffy didn't see.

The End


End file.
